


Traditions

by Felflowne



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Biting, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship/Love, Sexual Tension, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felflowne/pseuds/Felflowne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holiday traditions are things which should never be left to Mako Mankanshoku. You’d better find somewhere to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions

 

Ryuko sidled hastily along the wall under she reached the cupboard door, and ducked inside.

 

Pressing her ear to the wood, she heard footsteps thundering past down the hallway, several people calling her name, then moderate quiet, apart from the truly terrible music Mako had somehow managed to fill the house with.

 

Cupboard wasn't really a good word for where she was unashamedly hiding – it was more of a small room, filled with coats. This was the king of coat rooms. This was where good coats went when they died.

 

“Ryuko?”

 

She froze. Then she sighed in irritation and turned.

 

“Go find your own damned hiding place,” she snapped, “whoever you are. Don't you dare rat me out!”

 

“ _Is_ there another one?” The owner of the voice shuffled sheepishly out under the small light, and Ryuko blinked then stared.

 

“Don't make fun of me,” the man said, pre-empting her, “that's not fair.”

 

“Like I care, Senketsu,” she snorted. “Why are you in my cupboard?”

 

“It is Mako's cupboard.” He said flatly, and rather more loudly. She rolled her eyes. Pedantic smart-ass. She fancied she heard a noise on the other side of the door and tensed.

 

“It'll be your _grave_ if you don't shut up!” hissed Ryuko, stepping smartly forward to poke him in the chest. “If those crazy-ass weirdos catch me in here became of you, I'll...”

 

Footsteps thundered past outside, causing Ryuko to freeze up, but they passed again. She exhaled.

 

“Spill.” She said in a low growl.

 

Senketsu looked extremely uncomfortable. And wasn't that just the weirdest thing? Even now, months after the fact, she was still occasionally thrown by the fact that this unfamiliar person, this human, had previously looked very different. Had never previously had a human face or body to express discomfort _with._

 

When Iori had told her, months back, that there were enough of Senketsu's fibres left to reconstruct and revive him, she'd been aggressively encouraging, but at the back of her mind she'd harboured a tiny spark of worry that even if the tailor was successful, whoever awoke after his work was done wouldn't be Senketsu. Not _her_ Senketsu, anyway.

 

She needn't have worried on that score, but due to apparent issues with sequencing what passed for the DNA of Life Fibres, several gaps had to be bridged with human genetic material.

 

The result was – Senketsu. As he was now. A strange hybrid. A hybrid- _person._ Just like her.

 

“I was attacked.” He admitted ruefully.

 

“What!?” She snapped. “Don't be ridiculous.”

 

“ _Molested_ , then.” Senketsu grumbled, with a huff. “It was unpleasant.”

 

Even as she marvelled for what felt like the hundredth time how much of a trip it was to hear his voice via her ears instead of straight into her head, she peered at him more closely.

 

“What's that on your face?”

 

He hurriedly moved his hands to cover the mark but she was quicker, grabbing one hand and holding it away. She dabbed at his chin, and he flinched away.

 

“D-don't!” He gasped, but she wasn't listening.

 

“Oh my god!” She said, as quietly as possible while shaking with pent up laughter, “this is lipstick! Senketsu, did someone lay one on you?”

 

“I don't know what that means, exactly,” he said, wiping his face clumsily, “but from your level of amusement I would hazard that _yes_ , that is exactly what happened.”

 

“Such a ladykiller already. You move fast,” she said roughly, unsure why the words had the effect of making _her_ uncomfortable as well.

 

She was teasing, but something made her bite back the jibes she had lined up. While the body that her friend found himself now residing in was by no means ugly, he certainly wasn't conventionally good-looking. He had a tendency to frown and stare at people too much, and people were unnerved by his eyes, which were so bright copper that in some lights they looked red. He'd never learned to smile or laugh properly, either. To Ryuko, however, he was the same as ever. Nothing fundamental was any different about their relationship. Right?

 

“She said something about 'mistletoe'. That is a plant, yes?”

 

Ryuko screwed up her face and thought.

 

“Yeah,” she said finally. “I think so. Why?”

 

“It is apparently tradition for humans to kiss each other when they find themselves under mistletoe.”

 

She blinked.

 

“I've never heard that,” she said dismissively.

 

“Neither have I,” he replied, “but then, that is not altogether surprising. I was told that it is a tradition for this time of year.”

 

Ryuko groaned. Traditions! Mako had found a book about holiday traditions, most of which were totally lost from living memory. Ryuko certainly had no memory of any plant-based ones, but Mako had read that book from cover to cover. There was no arguing with her. In fact...

 

“She was trying to get me to wear some stupid deer horns on my head.” Ryuko admitted.

 

He stared. She waved her hands vaguely.

 

“I could see all the other stuff she had. I think she was planning to see how much stuff she could load onto me before I lost it. Being used as a cross between a hatrack and a shelf isn't my idea of fun.”

 

“Because you are an expert on fun.”

 

She glared. “What does that mean?”

 

He stared back, and she was sure that he was smiling, even 'though his perpetual scowl was firmly in place.

 

“It doesn't matter. So you hid.”

 

“Hey, you hid first,” she retorted.

 

He frowned more deeply.

 

“I did not recognise the woman,” he said finally, reverting to his previous tale of woe, “but she did not appear to want to leave me alone. It was a very unpleasant experience. I don't understand the human fascination with something so fundamentally pointless and rather unhygienic.”

 

Despite the fact that he was broadly right, Ryuko felt compelled to present a defence.

 

“Just 'cos you didn't enjoy a semi-drunk kiss from an undiscerning stranger at a party,” she tutted, “don't write it off. We do it because it makes us feel good.”

 

“I don't believe you,” he responded bluntly.

 

“I don't care if you do or not,” she snapped back. She could feel her cheeks warming up in reaction to her discussion of the topic and she could tell he was staring with interest at her reddening face.

 

“Your face is red.”

 

_Of course you would say that, you ass,_ she thought furiously.

 

“Yeah, well,” she said, attempting to sound off-hand, “it's just not something I know much about. I don't care much about it either.”

 

This time his surprise was painted across his face. She glared at him, horribly aware that her neck felt warm as well. He swallowed - and to her amazement, looked away, reddening slightly himself.

 

She wondered why until he said, “I am very surprised that you have not had this experience. You are so beautiful.”

 

“W-What?!” She squeaked. “You think-!”

 

He schooled his expression and spoke more firmly.

 

“I do not “think”, I know. This is a fact. I am not paying you an undue compliment.”

 

She opened her mouth to tear furiously a strip off of him, (who did he think he was, saying things like that?!) when the rattle of the door handle made them both leap. Ryuko made a desperate lunge for the light switch, and as she hit it, Senketsu grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into a huge collection of hanging coats at the back of the room. Seriously. How many people were at this party? Did they bring three coats each?

 

Ryuko found herself in an entirely uncomfortable position, jammed between her friend and a wall, but attempted to stay as silent as possible as the intruder wandered around. This was ridiculous. There was no reason to suspect that the person was looking for them, and even if they were...

 

Her thoughts were derailed as Senketsu shifted slightly. She gave a quiet but furious grunt as the side of her face was pressed harder against his sternum. Ow.

 

She blinked.

 

She could hear his heart, like this. It was beating hard. She closed her eyes and let herself drift for a second. She wondered if her heart had sounded like this to him when they'd been synchronised in the past. Thinking about synchronising suddenly seemed horribly inappropriate with Senketsu like this. More personal, intimate and close. She felt her face flush more and was glad of the covering darkness.

 

The door clicked shut.

 

There was a supremely awkward moment as he tried to wriggle out of the coats and she hadn't realised she was gripping his arm. She let go hurriedly.

 

“It's safe.” He said, and held out a hand that she could just about make out to help her out. She wanted to knock it aside but found herself taking it and leaning into him. He'd never once let her down, she realised dumbly. Safe. Yeah. She was safe.

 

“Ryuko.”

 

When he said it like that, she knew it wasn't a question or him asking for attention. It was more of a mantra for him, some kind of affirmation. And oddly, it always seemed to have a calming effect on her as well. She squeezed his hand unconsciously before releasing it. Without the light, it was still possible to see by the glow under the bottom of the door. Everything was dim.

 

“I embarrassed you. I am sorry.” He said.

 

She bristled, irritated.

 

“You embarrassed yourself as well!”

 

He coughed slightly.

 

“I don't know why that happened. I should be able to discuss anything with you.” His expression turned sour in the half light. “But we must agree to disagree as regards kissing. It is unpleasant.”

 

She stretched out, cracking her shoulders as she thought, but then, unplanned and completely unwelcome, words spilled out of her on their own.

 

“What does it even matter? I don't care if I ever kiss anyone. I never have and probably never will!”

 

He was silent and she froze in horror, rallying her panic into aggression.

 

“I mean-! Don't you dare judge me, okay? There's nothing _wrong_ with that, it's just-”

 

“Are you saying you have never met anyone you-”

 

“I don't want to talk about this any more!” She almost shrieked, her heart in her throat. He had a horribly keen sense for when to apply pressure to get information that he wanted. She wondered if he knew that he was one of the only people she ever caved to.

 

“ _I_ do,” he said firmly. “Explain to me why so much human entertainment and literature places a importance on this act.”

 

“Ugh! Talk like a normal person,” she grated, mortified.

 

“I'm _not_ a normal person,” he pressed, stepping closer, “and you are avoiding my questions.”

 

She paused as something he'd said filtered through.

 

“What 'human entertainment'?” She said suddenly, and he glared at her.

 

“It cannot have escaped your notice that-”

 

“No, no, I get that. What have you been watching? Is that what's got you all stirred up?”

 

He huffed.

 

“I am not 'stirred up',” he said.

 

“Yeah, obviously.”

 

There was a pause in which attempted to compose herself.

 

“Do you think kisses are different if they are between different people?” He asked suddenly.

 

Unable to think of a reply, she simply let out a growl of frustration, her face burning and fingers tingling. Why wouldn't he let this drop? It wasn't like him. Normally he knew when she'd had enough and when to change the subject, but he was doggedly pursuing this.

 

She leapt in fright as his hand trailed up her arm, causing goosebumps to leap up in its wake. Stunned, she didn't move as he pressed his fingers under her jaw.

 

“Your heart rate is escalated.” He said, and she internally cursed whoever it was who had taught him how to do that. She tried to jerk away, but he grabbed hold of her hand.

 

“What are you- Stoppit!” She managed, and then sucked in a breath as he pressed two of her fingers against his own neck.

 

“Can you feel that?” He asked, and she flexed her fingers slightly, feeling the slightly strange sensation of the blood pulsing, hard.

 

She snatched her hand back, furious and speechless.

 

“My heart is beating too quickly,” he said, sounding spooked, “it is making my breathing difficult.”

 

“You're such a freak,” she said, but not unkindly. “It's OK. You're not dying.”

 

She stared at him closely, and noticed how his gaze slid down to her neck and back to her face, pausing ever so slightly on her mouth. She gaped.

 

“Senketsu...” she said faintly, shocked, “...are you thinking about kissing me?”

 

His face was a picture as he attempted to decide on an expression. He seemed to decide that honesty was best.

 

“I am,” he said, his voice low.

 

She was thrown. She knew she should be angry, she wanted to be angry, but she couldn't get any words out before he spoke again, stepping closer.

 

“I don't need your blood any more, Ryuko,” he muttered, now so close that she could feel his breath when he spoke again, and shivered, “but I miss that connection with you. I wondered if kissing you would feel similar.”

 

“I-It won't! You pervert!” Ryuko hissed, trying to get her feet to co-operate, but they stayed rooted to the ground.

 

“I cannot imagine that it could feel better,” he said softly, and with that, pressed his forehead to hers, causing her to let out a soft grunt, “but I would very much like to find out. And unless I'm mistaken, this-” He placed a hand over where her heart was thumping so hard she was sure he could hear it, “- means that you would not be adverse to finding out either. If I am wrong, please tell me.”

 

She gave up. He was right. She wasn't fooling anyone, least of all him, or herself. She missed him, dreadfully, even 'though they lived in the same house. The last few months had been a succession of awkward moments as he adjusted to how close human “friends” were allowed to get to each other, and she had kept him at arm's length, worried that her own selfish wanting was going to mess him up.

 

She was fed up of the near-constant niggling feeling she had when he wasn't with her, or when he was but they were sat on opposite sides of a room. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It wasn't what she wanted. That being said, she wasn't just going to roll over. She fixed him with a challenging stare.

 

“Well?”

 

He smiled. Honest-to-god grinned at her. It was utterly gorgeous and totally filthy at the same time. She gulped. What had she created?

 

“I love that look on you,” he growled, before leaning forward to catch her mouth with his own.

 

Not wanting to be outdone, she gripped at his arms and leaned into the kiss, sparring, tussling with him. His groan at that resonated through her.

 

She gasped in a breath as he broke the contact, but then immediately leaned in again, tilting her head so she could fit her mouth better against his. His hands came up jerkily and pressed her closer, and she let out a muffled sound that _certainly_ was not a whimper.

 

God. Yes. This.

 

He became more aggressive and demanding, kisses becoming deeper and hotter, but she kept pace with him, the power struggle continuing on with no clear winner. They were evenly matched.

 

She groaned as one of his hands slid down and around her back to grab firmly onto her hip, thumb teasing her hipbone through the material of her skirt.

 

“Ryuko...” he muttered, but she nipped at his lip, causing him to jerk, then shudder.

 

“Shut up,” she replied, in response to which both of his hands came up to grab her face, and she found herself pushed backwards into the soft wall of coats. She was about to shove him back when he leaned down and _pushed_ himself against her, and she felt the warmth of his body from her neck all the way down to her thighs.

 

She let out a gruff noise of pleasure and arousal, realising a second later that he had done the same.

 

She reached up and fisted a hand in his hair to make him stop. His gaze shifted between her face, her mouth, her neck. She swallowed. She slid her arms up and around his neck, finding better ways to fit closer to him. He buried his face into her shoulder, his breath tickling and making her twitch.

 

The warm air in the room seemed suddenly chilly, and she realised it was because she had broken out in a sweat. He leaned away from her and she was suddenly cold all down her front as well, legs feeling wobbly. As he stepped back, he kept hold of her hand and helped her stand up again.

 

There was a moment of silence. Then, in an attempt to feign nonchalance which even she had to admit was totally bullshit, she fiddled with her hair and said, “So?”

 

He chuckled, not fooled in the slightest, and tugged her towards him again, wrapping his arms securely around her. She struggled slightly in token protest, then huffed and laid her head against him, allowing herself a moment of calm.

 

“That was... very enjoyable,” he said softly, “I believe I preferred it to drinking your blood.”

 

“Good,” she retorted, “because it's not like I'm not letting you do that any more.”

 

“Really?” He said, a crafty look on his face

 

“What?! No!” She cried, then yelped as he leant swiftly forward and sank his teeth into the soft skin of her neck, just enough to pinch. She went to shove at him, but was prevented from doing so by the effect the gesture had. Her legs wobbled as heat washed over her, and she had no choice but to cling to him, breathing hard. His chuckle as he supported her bordered on intolerable, and she fumed, aroused and furious.

 

“You – You asshole!” She panted.

 

“You enjoyed it,” he purred, nuzzling and kissing at the pink mark he'd left. Despite herself, she laughed and arched into the touch, suddenly shaking with relief that now she could -

 

He sighed in pleasure as she brushed her lips against his again.

 

“You know there's more, right?” She said, mellowed out beyond belief. She felt him nod.

 

“I am aware.”

 

“Did you, er... y'know, want to...?” She was amazed that she was still capable of blushing at this point. He seemed confused.

 

“Here?” He asked sceptically. She snorted in laughter and flexed, loving the way his arms shifted tighter around her.

 

“No, not here, you unbelievable dork. I just meant, at some point....” she trailed off and the sneaky bastard used her moment of thought to steal another kiss from her, deep and kind of filthy. She hummed, too into it to complain.

 

“I would like that. No... I want that. Very much,” he said, and then after a pause added: “With you. Only if it's with you.”

 

“Obviously.” She growled, furious at the notion that anyone else go near him like this.

 

“Then yes. Can it be soon?”

 

She laughed at the earnestness of the question.

 

“You're so greedy! Fine, soon, like, 'when we get home'. That soon enough?” she scolded without rancour, moving away and going to open the door. “Such a pervert.”

 

She felt him walk up behind her, but before he could do anything else, the door was snatched out of her hand and slammed open. She was glad it opened outwards, else she'd've been smacked square in the face.

 

Mako was stood in the doorway, arms full of various terrifying and horrendously “traditional” things.

 

“Ryuko!” She exclaimed, then her face twisted into a sly grin. “What are you doing in here alone with Senketsu! I always thought that you were some kind of sexual fiend and here's the proof! Tell Mako everything that happened – she needs to know for scientific and friendship related reasons!”

 

Ryuko felt Senketsu tense behind her, but she wasn't concerned. She'd learned long ago the best way to deal with Mako when she was like this was to distract her.

 

“What have you got there?” She asked, realising as she did so that she probably wasn't going to like the answer.

 

Mako screeched in excitement as she began to list off all the odd things she was carrying, Ryuko's cupboard-based exploits forgotten for the moment. Then, with a yapped order for them both to follow her so she could “get started” (whatever that meant) she was gone, dashing down the corridor, a blur of joy and odd, sparkly garlands.

 

Senketsu shut the door with a click.

 

“I need to go and see what she's doing,” Ryuko said, almost ruefully.

 

“Of course,” Senketsu replied. “She is your best friend and has earned it.”

 

She turned away from him, but hadn't managed more than a few steps when she felt his arms slide around her waist and his mouth press to her ear.

 

“For a few hours,” he murmured, “until we go home.”

 

“Fine,” she replied, attempting to come across as impatient, but probably sounding too breathless to pull it off, “now get your paws off me, you pest.”

 

She pulled away and walked after Mako, gripping his hand. He shifted and laced his fingers with hers, and at that moment, Ryuko didn't care who saw.


End file.
